Waiting for a Sign
by EveLGW
Summary: 'Neither of us dares to move and I suddenly wonder who's going to draw first, who's going to be the one to bring this terrible stand-off to an end.' (GSR)


Title: Waiting for a Sign  
Author: Eve (little_grey_woman42@yahoo.de)  
Rating: G  
Keywords: V, GSR, maybe a bit of angst and general oddness - so basically nothing new :-)  
Spoilers: up to ALM (just to be safe)  
Disclaimer: not mine  
Author's notes: This here is probably completely out of character. Sorry if it sucks - it's just something I really needed to get out of my system.  
  
  
Waiting for a Sign  
by Eve  
  
  
The hallways are nearly deserted and I'm glad for the illusion of privacy. I slowly make my way through the quiet building, one step at a time, each step leading me closer to my destination.  
  
I know I've finally reached it when I spot a solitary figure through the half closed blinds of one of the layout-room windows. I walk up to the door and see him standing there, hunched forward over one of the microscopes and taking notes, deeply immersed in one of his experiments. By the look of it, it doesn't involve raw meat but I'm still not sure about whether it's safe for me to enter.  
  
He hasn't noticed me yet and so I take those precious moments of unawareness to study his profile, follow his movements. An air of tension surrounds him and his excitement caused by the knowledge that his experiment is soon going to reveal the mysteries of the case he's working on is so strong it's is almost palpable. But at the same time those impressions are somehow balanced by a sense of contentment. Totally wrapped up in whatever experiment he is carrying out I realise that he is so completely at ease because this here is part of his natural habitat. This is where he belongs, where he feels safe.  
  
It's a sight I rarely get to see these days and so I slowly lean against the door frame and continue to watch him in this beautiful unguarded state, every move filled with purpose, so efficient and yet almost poetic in expression. He's like a conductor in front of an orchestra, often not knowing at the beginning what the melody will be like in the end. Bringing the bits and pieces together and blending them into a whole he creates order out of chaos, meaning out of confusion.  
  
Even though my curiosity about the nature of his experiment peaks up I stay right where I am and try to remain completely still, try to resist the constant pull I feel when I'm near him. Because it can't be much longer now, can't be too long until the experiment is over and the truth lies unveiled in front of him. That's the moment I'm waiting for, the moment it clicks, when realisation sets in and the concentration and tension etched into his features will drain away and make place for one of those rare smiles that lights up his whole face and puts the sparkle I fell in love with so many years ago back into his eyes.  
  
But suddenly I realise that I can't wait any longer, can't wait until he is done.  
  
Perhaps it's because I'm also a scientist and know that every experiment includes the possibility of failure, that the wide array of outcomes always includes the best but also the worst case scenario.  
  
Perhaps it's because patience has never actually been one of my stronger virtues and I'm finally sick of standing on the sideline and just be content with watching.  
  
Perhaps it's because right now I feel an almost desperate need to connect with him, to step inside and strip away that layer of solitude that surrounds him, to make him aware that I'm still ... here.  
  
With him.  
  
Always with him.  
  
So I take a step forward and even though I'm sure I didn't make a sound, his face is turned away from me and his eyes are still focused on the table in front of him, he somehow senses me the moment I enter the room.  
  
He looks up.  
  
A wave of sadness washes over me as I see nearly all traces of that unguarded state dissolve instantly. Knowing that there had been a time not so long ago without this kind of uneasy tension, without the awkwardness I can already feel setting in, a time filled with comfortable silence in between real conversations ... knowing this pains me and leaves me full of longing for what I fear could be lost forever and with the feeling that I have to do something to change it before we're too far gone and it's too late.  
  
When he steps away from the table and turns around to fully face me, the expression on his face only causes to rouse that sense of urgency further. But neither of us dares to move and I suddenly wonder who's going to draw first, who's going to be the one to bring this terrible stand-off to an end.  
  
I only know that I'm tired of this constant limbo that leaves us always hanging in between, everywhere at once but somehow nowhere at all. Tired of the secrets that he tries to keep from me even though he should know better, should know *me* better than that. Tired of his attempts to keep me at arm's length. Tired of the secrets that I kept and am still keeping from him.   
  
I can't say how much time has passed since I entered the room, but when he is about to say something, I suddenly know for sure that I have to speak first. Finally realising the importance of this moment, I raise my hand in an attempt to stop him.  
  
Clearly surprised at my behaviour he remains silent, head tilted slightly to the side, watching me.  
  
Waiting.  
  
When I finally speak, the focus of his eyes immediately shifts from my face to my right hand. Still raised in the air palm facing outwards, I slowly make a fist and then raise my small finger, my index finger and my thumb.  
  
"No more secrets." My voice trembles just as much as my hand, both speaking loud and clear.  
  
And this time he listens. 


End file.
